


Sustenance

by Rococospade



Series: Fireballs and Fairydust [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blood Drinking, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rococospade/pseuds/Rococospade
Summary: Sheik has a problem. Aldhard tries to be helpful, but there's only so much he can do when he doesn't understand it besides stay quiet when Sheik asks and be supportive when he needs it. Which he does, even if he has trouble asking. (Sheik had a lot of trouble asking for things, then and always, but Aldhard had four sons and he knew how to be patient.)(No shipping, some mentions of sexual content, underage drinking, and off-screen violence. Warning for blood drinking.)
Relationships: Link's Father & Sheik (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Fireballs and Fairydust [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1265495
Kudos: 4





	Sustenance

**Author's Note:**

> This glosses over some storyline that, at the time of posting this, I haven't put into fic-form yet. So if there's a reference you don't understand it's not for lack of reading, apologies. The shortest version would be: Hyrule had no magic thanks to a curse. The events of Abbadon occurred. Then, because of a strange call from the long-collapsed temple, Link's father and Sheik went digging and fell into an adventure they had to fight their way out of. Magic was restored to Hyrule because of it, and people are adjusting... uh... to various degrees. (Which is to say, Red keeps accidentally lighting things aflame.)

Generally speaking, Aldhard Kamala Voss thought he’d been fortunate as a parent in what he had and hadn’t experienced regarding his kids. 

Aside from the death of their mother (he was not thinking about that, it didn’t count, and it hurt to remember) they had had straightforward, easy lives. He was grateful for it. And maybe that was why Fate saw fit to hand him an extra child when his wife had passed. 

“ _Here, Voss.” (Or something. His metaphorical voice for Fate sounded very much like Captain_ _Teake_ _of the_ _G_ _erudo) “You’ve done pretty well with these so far. Have another and take your mind off what you can’t fix.”_

Maybe Aldhard was anthropomorphizing things a little bit, but his mother had imparted a strong belief in destiny to her entire brood, and maybe to her youngest most of all. So, he believed in Fate, and he apparently also sort of believed that it had the same no-nonsense way of speaking as several of his mentors. 

So a few months after he’d lost his wife and their good friend to the line of duty, he’d come into possession of another child full-time; Impa had come to him and asked if he would accept her nephew moving into the house officially (Sheik had been there unofficially for a long time, and just after the cave in that took Viilinn and Amin more than ever.) 

At the time Aldhard had found it curious that Impa had asked him instead of Sheik, but chalked it up to Sheikah manners and thought no more of it. 

That evening after dinner Aldhard pulled Sheik aside and told him he was welcome to stay in the house as long as he needed, that it was home for him too. It was probably the first time he’d seen Sheik look vulnerable. 

(Before, in the wake of the call about the cave in, Sheik had all but shut down- like his emotions had gone to sleep.) 

(After that call Aldhard had waited days, weeks, the way you would for an oncoming disaster. He thought with time he would be comforting five teenagers instead of four, but Sheik remained as a stone in a storm. Those emotions never woke up the way Aldhard anticipated, and Sheik was the most held-together of any of them, but in a way that left Aldhard nervous instead of comforted). 

But months after that call - the evening he’d told Sheik the Voss house was his home, if he wanted it to be - Aldhard had watched in astonishment as his nephew crumpled. 

(In a few hours, holding a crying teenager to his chest, Aldhard caught himself thinking that Sheik maybe hid more than he showed to any of them. Aldhard was grateful Impa had been shrewd enough to see it, the way he hadn’t before it sprung itself into his notice. Sheik never asked for something he seemed to want if he decided he wanted it too badly, and that was troubling for too many reasons. More than that, Sheik rarely seemed to ask much of anyone and preferred to handle things himself where he could. It had never worried Aldhard before that evening; now he wondered what else Sheik kept hidden.) 

It had been nearly five years since the cave-in that robbed both their families. A myriad of things had changed – most for the best, though never all – and a handful of months since the curse over Hyrule had been broken by a strange and magical mistake. 

Everyone was adapting at their own pace: Red was learning magecraft from one of his employers, Vio was studying before the first term at his new school, and the twins were visiting their mother’s side of the family for an ancestral trip as an early eighteenth birthday present. Sheik was arguably the one handling the changes the worst, and, well. 

He had the most magic of any of them but perhaps Red, and was unused to having access to it in Hyrule. Which was leading to some difficulties. (Spontaneous teleportation being arguably the worst, thought at least it was a common problem for Sheikah. Several at the precinct had without warning popped in or out of a room, usually looking just as alarmed as any witnesses.) 

Aldhard didn’t like to say Sheik wasn’t handling something well, mind – because Sheik usually took it as a _challenge –_ but he was genuinely unsure how else to label their situation. 

At current, Aldhard was staring at the ceiling and walls. Because. Because grasping hands reached out of mold coated stonework to paw at him, and roots twisted down from the ceiling and seemed to brush his hair as he passed under them. The shadows of the chamber were wrecking merry havoc, thrashing and twisting and making to reach out of the walls and grab hold of him as he passed through. Repeating that it was an only an illusion to himself let him keep focus, but the place still made Aldhard’s skin crawl. 

He was careful not to show as much; no need to make Sheik think illusory horror shows would bring him peace in this house. If Sheik wanted time alone to process things he would have to ask for it; Aldhard registered _making a_ _display worth the Shadow Temple_ as a cry for help and company and would treat it accordingly. 

Which meant wading through shifting and seemingly sentient shadows now. At least he’d already put what he’d bought away. At least this was in the laundry and the back hall, and not the kitchen. 

Sheik was curled up in the corner of his (probably accidental) reproduction of a charnel house, looking very small, surrounded by manifestations of his own magic. He turned his gaze up at Aldhard’s approach, cheeks flushed and – concerningly – irises red. Before – even under the curse – Sheik had been capable of disguising the color. 

Usually, an illusion was cast to render them an ‘acceptably Hylian brown’ (a quote of Sheik’s, and in no way related to Aldhard’s opinion excepting that he only saw red irises when Sheik was very emotional or making an attempt to intimidate someone). 

Sheik scrubbed a wrist over his face, as if the presence of tears there would _actually_ be the deciding factor in whether Aldhard could tell he’d been crying. 

Aldhard dropped to the ground beside him, arranging himself to sit with crossed legs in the shadowy mire. 

Sheik startled and the swirling dark dispersed as if they’d lit an area lamp between them. “… sorry. I didn’t realize.” Sheik looked down and – with an awkward, stiff set to his shoulders - twirled his hand near the ground at his side. 

Aldhard liberally interpreted the gesture as a reference to the illusions that, a moment ago, had painted Stygian nightmares over the reality of a laundry room and back hallway (those were, now, as boring and domestic as ever.) 

Well, he rather liked them that way. They had enough of the dark and cold and quiet of a tomb to last a lifetime. 

“Yes, you seemed like you were in your own world.” Aldhard agreed, drawing a knee up and resting his elbow on the leg. “Didn’t want to startle you, sorry. Anything you want to talk about?” 

Sheik gave him a guilty look. His eyes were still red. “… no.” 

Aldhard watched Sheik flex his fingers, and kept his peace. He was older than Sheik. He had four kids. He was capable of being patient longer than Sheik was capable of pretending he wasn’t there and they had nothing to discuss. 

(He had to wait a while for it. But he could do it.) 

“… yes.” 

Aldhard tried not to look like he’d startled awake at the voice and glanced at his nephew, who was stiff and uncomfortable and looking anywhere else. Thankfully for Aldhard Sheik’s head wasn’t even turned his way, so he could try to array himself like he hadn’t just been dozing off. It had been a long day at work. 

When Aldhard checked around them some of the magic had crept back, and shadows brushed along his ankles like affectionate cats. The room had not resumed looking like a passionate artist’s rendition of Sheol, though, so he presumed they weren’t on a wrong track. 

“Alright,” Aldhard said, once he was confident he wouldn’t rasp, “Well. What seems to be the problem?” 

Sheik sighed, and the shadows juddered like his disappointment and discontent ran through each one in kind. Emotional magic was fascinating to watch behave, though the current situation left Aldhard feeling a little guilty for thinking so. 

“Since the magic came back. It…” Sheik hesitated, eyes narrowed to slits and glittering rather ominously. “I… have to change my diet.” (Have, not had. So he hadn’t yet?... wait, why did it matter?) 

Aldhard blinked; personally he thought _only_ doing that was a very reasonable, rational reaction to such an irrational sounding statement, and that he deserved at least acknowledgement for not doing more to express his confusion. He waited for Sheik to clarify, because, _actually what_ _?_

Sheik didn’t make him wait too long. Really he wasn’t even watching Aldhard for a response. Instead he made aggravated noises, then shut his eyes. 

Sheik drew a breath and visibly gathered his self-control. “I have to change my diet.” He said, slow. “Because of the magic. I didn’t think about it, but I don’t eat the same out of Hyrule.” He paused, “Except now I have to because… Hyrule is the same as everywhere else. So I need to eat like I’m casting magic all the time, now.” 

Aldhard nodded slowly; he thought he understood. Magic took a good deal of energy: it made sense that Sheik would need to eat more to make up for the amount he’d surely been using as of late, if only for accidental teleportation. Still, this sounded like it was very little to brood over. They could afford a bit more on their grocery bill. “That’s fine. I’m sure we can handle it, and you’ll have it under control soon.” He reached over to touch Sheik’s back, intentionally slow and gentle. (He didn’t want to startle Sheik, for either of their sakes.) “I can’t imagine anything different.” 

He knew he’d missed the mark when Sheik turned a look that was half-frustration and half-despair on him. 

“No…” Sheik sighed, “I’m sorry, I… I’ll need to do it whether or not I’m actively casting. More if I’m casting a lot, but…” Out came a deep, gusty sigh, the likes of which Sheik had no right to release at his age. “Well, it won’t go away.” 

After a moment in mutual silence – Aldhard trying to adjust his approach and Sheik looking a bit mutinous of his own words - Sheik scrunched his brow and grumbled, “I’ve got a headache.” Which was a good cherry for a shit cake, or so he seemed to feel. 

(Aldhard offered him something for it, but Sheik was adamant that it wasn’t that sort of headache. Attempts to reassure him that emotional and physical pain worked off of the same components, and so pain medicine might help, were unsuccessful.) 

“Do we have enough food for dinner?” Aldhard asked, “I can call Red and see if he’ll pick up something on his way home? I grabbed milk, but…” 

He was still missing something by the look on Sheik‘s face, but Aldhard also knew he was more likely to get an answer at this point by playing dumb than he was by asking probing questions. 

(It worked, again, eventually. But again he had to wait a while. Until then they sat in silence, Sheik pressing a little into his side like he trusted Aldhard to protect him again. Sheik retreating from that touch was how Aldhard knew he’d hear the crux of the issue soon, though the distance pained him on a small and private level.) 

“Blood.” Sheik broke their silence with, as if it were a complete explanation and not a fairly open-ended announcement. “Or something like it.” Sheik leaned forward, intent on the wall across from them, and said, “Magic for magic.” 

Aldhard shrugged, and pretended he didn’t see the disbelieving look shot at him. “Alright.” Blood. It did explain Sheik’s fascination with a few things, at minimum. More than that if Aldhard really pried, but he didn’t want to just then. He leaned back on his hands and considered the ceiling, which no longer dripped with roots and sludge. “Wish Arjuna had mentioned that… maybe that’s why he’s been so snappish…” he cocked his head and looked at Sheik. “Would raw steak work, do you figure?” 

Sheik never did seem to know how to handle acceptance the way he knew to handle rejection (fists clenched, lip curled, eyes flashing anger and tongue ready to cut like a ritual blade). Instead he looked a bit flummoxed and a lot vulnerable, a frozen not-kid on the floor. It had been a few years since Sheik was half his age, a few longer since Aldhard really felt the gulf, but sometimes it showed itself as a startling there and gone creature. Aldhard wasn’t sure why he was the way he was. Amin had been kind. Too strict, though, maybe?… At least, for someone as willful as her firstborn. 

“What- no!” Sheik paused, looking puzzled. Then like he was considering it. “… maybe? I don’t think?” 

Hell if Aldhard knew. He shrugged back at Sheik and made the note to ask around the station. “Do cows have magic in their meat or just their milk?” Wouldn’t it be convenient if they did? Ahhh, it was probably a no then. Aldhard knew his luck didn’t run THAT shining and golden. 

“What sort of person would slaughter a magical cow, Aldhard?” Sheik looked rather concerned for him; Aldhard was used to catching the same look from friends in bars, and he had to struggle not to laugh at seeing it then. Laughing at someone who was confiding in you was a good way to ensure they never would again. Also, Sheik might slap him for it, or maybe cry. (Sands help him if Sheik cried. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive himself if he fucked this conversation up that badly.) 

“… I guess an ungrateful one.” Aldhard said, thinking of laughter in the face of confessions, and how maybe that was the problem in the first place. “Maybe a fool.” He gave Sheik a slightly awkward smile, a cover for thoughts half-formed and unready for discussion. “So you need blood, and it has to be magical?” 

Looking equal parts flummoxed and relieved, Sheik nodded yes. 

Maybe it was because Sheik had spent the first few years of his life only with his brother and Amin, who both expected him to defend himself, that he didn’t understand Aldhard’s impulse to shield him. But Aldhard was a father. So he fixed things, and he served as the last line of defense between his children and the world (the first, too, without Viilinn here, and with Sheik too bruised to shield anything properly just then.) It would have to be enough. 

Aldhard peered at Sheik sideways. “Would you rather I not touch you now?” He asked, intentionally casual, and curled his lips in a smile that came easy from long practice. He hoped Sheik wouldn’t recognize it as his ‘defusing tension’ expression. “If you don’t, I won’t be offended.” Aldhard kept his hands to himself. “But if you happened to want a hug, then just give me a sign. Okay?” 

Sheik shifted, shoulders stiff. He didn’t speak. 

An elbow brushed Aldhard’s side so gingerly he considered it an accident until it came again. And, well, that was something. He turned and pulled Sheik to his chest, making full advantage of their difference in frames. 

Sheik looked half-flustered with, and half-pleased by, the force of the hug he was swept into. 

He buried his face in Aldhard’s shoulder, and Aldhard tightened his arms around Sheik’s waist and hummed for both their sakes. 

“You are loved,” He said, voice suffused with it; it was nothing but the truth, and so it was no burden to say at all. “You are precious, and important, and anyone who tells you different is asking for a bloody nose from Red or his brothers.” 

Sheik let out a small squeak of protest. “I don’t need them fighting my battles.” 

“Mm, the twins don’t need it either, but Red is hard to argue with when he shows up with a bat.” Aldhard’s voice went a little dry with resignation. He liked that his sons watched out for their own. He’d just like it more if the process involved _less_ broken laws and broken property and broken bones. 

Sheik curled up in his lap and clung to him. Aldhard sat comfortably and waited for paroxysms of _pain disbelief mourning grief_ to give way to rawness and relief, which might involve tears given how these things trended. 

“You are loved,” He said again to Sheik, and the dam broke. 

There weren’t tears – he was debating if he should worry for that – but Sheik made a noise like he was dying anyway. It scraped out of his throat and into Aldhard’s mind, too similar to the screams of monsters; his grip on Sheik tightened, and he swallowed down his own emotions for a moment to think. 

“We wouldn’t look at you differently.” Aldhard picked through words with care, trying to aim at a specter he couldn’t see, trying not to hit a minefield of bruises scattered in the way. “For something you can’t even control. We know you, and I know you. It’s no different than medicine.” He paused, “And anyone who thinks differently has no place at our table.” 

To Aldhard the taste of blood meant _fear pain_ **_hurt them BACK_ **. He’d calmed it with years and time and training, but the instincts of an animal lived in the back of the mind of everyone and those voices could only be quieted, not thrown away forever. 

He tried to imagine craving the hot copper tang of a fresh bleed. He didn’t get very far. But it also wasn’t a dietary requirement for him, so he was probably missing the biggest thing. 

Sheik let out a moan born of despair and crowded a little closer to him. “What if Green tries to imitate me.” He asked, voice scraped with something besides standard pain. Worry, maybe? 

“… oh.” Aldhard hadn’t considered it. “… I’m sure the taste will put him off.” 

Sheik’s next groan sounded equally unhappy. He did not protest. 

Aldhard rubbed Sheik’s back. “We don’t have to tell the boys, if you don’t want.” It would probably be easier to keep Green in check if he was unaware, at least until they had a better plan. 

Sheik clung to him, mostly quiet, his chest hitching. Aldhard waited it out with him. 

“... I hate it.” Sheik sighed, and the tension mostly bled out. 

Aldhard clicked his tongue. “I hope you don’t feel guilty about it?" He asked, just to be sure. 

Sheik twitched in his grip. "No, I don't.” He drew back a little to peer at Aldhard, and Aldhard drew his hands back so Sheik could do that without fighting against him. “I just - … I don't want them to think differently about me. ’s mostly selfish." He rubbed his forehead, looking uncomfortably near to tears and yet dry-eyed still Aldhard rested his hand on Sheik's shoulder and - when Sheik leaned in, instead of pressing away - wrapped his arm around him properly again. 

"I don't think they're capable of that, Sheik." He set his chin on Sheik's head and rubbed one of his shoulders. "But if you'd rather not tell them yet, they won't hear it from me. You don't have to tell anyone until you're ready." He paused, "Or at all, Sheik. It's your body." 

Sheik snorted at him. His voice came out thick"... they'll find out eventually." 

Aldhard's heart hurt a little more. He forced some lightness into his voice; Sheik didn't need to know that Aldhard was bothered for him, after all. He tried to think of something he could do to help, but much wasn’t forthcoming except maybe… hmm. 

Aldhard nodded to himself and clucked his tongue. "I'll tell them it's cranberry juice." 

Sheik let out a groan that indicated an impressive amount of despair; it was like he thought blatant that lies wouldn’t work in this context. “ _Aldhard_." Sheik twisted to peer at him through tangled locks of hair, "That might work if they were ten, but they're all in high school…" 

"Alcohol, then. Maybe something distilled.” Aldhard brightened at this stroke of brilliance and added, “They shouldn't be having that anyway." He nuzzled Sheik, who groaned as if Aldhard's very words were arrows in his back. 

"Isn't that a cliché from vampire movies?… what kind of distilled drink is cloudy brown and red, even?” Sheik rubbed his face again. “And Vio drinks. We _both know_ Vio drinks.” 

Vio did not drink if he didn’t want to be grounded until he was twenty-one, Aldhard thought, but didn’t say so. … Red probably drank. But he could control the rest of his children or he could try to corral his youngest into behaving and, honestly, the former seemed like better odds. (Aldhard had never liked losing at anything.) 

He tipped his head back, a half-genuine smile playing on his mouth. "I have no idea why you're bothered by the idea of clichés. Aren't they the best cover?" 

"No.” Sheik prodded him in the chest. “They're the worst. People think of them immediately." Sheik raised his head to fix him with another, deeply unhappy, look. 

Aldhard - despite being dislodged - grinned back at him and tightened his grip a brief moment. "And then immediately disregard it!” He argued, “That's why they're the best cover!" 

"Aldhard." Sheik groaned again, but he was almost smiling, and he didn't look near tears anymore, and Aldhard thought that at least for a moment that was plenty of progress. 

Sheik shifted against him. His shoulders slowly loosened, until he was a lax pile of… If not precisely a _happy_ _S_ heikah, then at least not one that was crying. He seemed quite tired, the way one might expect to be after – Aldhard’s insides seemed to tie in knots – spending the day afraid your family could hate you, or maybe stupidly imitate you. He carded his fingers through Sheik’s hair and muttered nonsense to him until he was certain the only priority Sheik had was sleep, then tried to stand while holding him. 

Sheik stirred, gave him a puzzled look. 

Aldhard paused halfway up to peer back at him. “… Sheik?” Aldhard hadn’t done as well as he’d hoped, if Sheik’s eyes were still red. He only dropped the glamour when he was too emotional to manage focusing on it. 

Sheik blinked at him. Aside from his eyes, nothing in his expression gave Aldhard a hint to the problem. So he’d have to rely on asking, which was... an iffy proposition. 

“Was there anything else?” Aldhard asked as gently as he could. Besides a genuine desire not to upset Sheik again, there was also Aldhard’s own health to consider. Carrying a Sheikah assumed a certain amount of personal risk. If Sheik became violently upset in his arms, there wasn’t much for him to do besides drop him and try to regain distance before something sharp lodged itself in him. Not that Sheik ever had become violently upset towards anyone in the Voss house, but he’d also never had to confront a piece of unpleasant self-knowledge in one of their presences either, and Aldhard knew that had the potential to warp someone kind into something less so. 

And, watching Sheik tear into monsters firsthand in the Shadow Temple not so long ago had forced Aldhard to confront - and develop a healthy respect for - Sheik’s capacity for violence. Sheik could probably hurt him, and Aldhard wasn’t sure he could hurt him _back._ You didn’t hurt people you loved. 

Sheik wasn’t looking at him like an enemy or like prey, though. He was looking at him as if Aldhard had him completely wrong footed, instead. “I-” Then, Sheik’s cheeks darkened, and he looked away. Which was somewhere past odd for Aldhard to watch. “Nothing else is upsetting me. Thank you, though.” 

“You’re sure?” Aldhard asked, examining Sheik. Was he lying? Was there a benefit to lying? 

“Positive.” Sheik shook his head and chanced a glance upward, red eyes peering through thick locks of blond hair like he was hiding. “You worry too much, Aldhard.” 

“I think I miss you calling me uncle.” Aldhard finished standing. His legs were trying to complain about the halfway up position, and it wasn’t pleasant. “And with five of you in this house? I worry exactly the right amount.” 

Sheik snorted and went lax again, rolling his head against Aldhard’s chest as if he intended to sleep there, or maybe just couldn’t be bothered to hold it up any longer. “Five of me? I think you’d die. And if I call you uncle you get the oddest ideas about _protecting_ me.” 

Aldhard decided not to correct his belief that those odd ideas were somehow vanquished without the use of an endearment. 

Sheik seemed to notice anyway. “More odd ideas, then.” He huffed. 

Aldhard tried not to smile. “I want to believe you, Sheik,” He said, “It’s just that your eyes are… ah… you’ve never shown off the color, I suppose?” 

Sheik went still in his grip, a little stiff. “… no?” He asked, tilting his head back enough to search Aldhard’s face for something. 

“No.” Aldhard agreed. “I don’t mean to notice these things, but you don’t.” 

Sheik brought a hand up to his face, slow. Aldhard noticed that it trembled, just before he touched the flesh of his cheek, tracing the orbital ridge, circling the eye he left uncovered. 

“Oh,” Sheik breathed, looking inward, focused on nothing Aldhard could examine. “That’s new.” 

“New.” Aldhard had to make his voice neutral when he said it. New was Sheik having magic at his fingers. New was Sheikah drinking blood within the borders of Hyrule. New was often strange, and sometimes violent, and so it sounded like something to be cautious about. 

“I can’t conceal it.” Sheik said. His voice came out slow and measured, though less like he was trying to stay calm and more as if he were figuring out the rules in a new game. “That’s never happened before.” 

“You never turned the laundry room into a nightmare chamber before,” Aldhard felt compelled to remind him. 

Sheik’s laugh was sharp, and if it wasn’t exactly kind the amusement in it was genuine. “They aren’t real, uncle.” 

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t disturbing.” 

Sheik shook his head. “… I suppose I’ll need to get some cranberry juice.” He muttered. 

Aldhard beamed at him. “Do you have someone you can ask for that? Oh! You’ve seen their test results first, I hope?” 

“Aldhard…” Sheik looked rather embarrassed to know him. Always a plus. “No, not… yet.” 

“Then we’ll ask Arjuna!” 

“Oh god.” Sheik tried to squirm out of his grip. Aldhard held on tighter to be contrary, though he was careful to leave enough room that Sheik could wriggle free if he really wanted. 

“I think he can help!” Aldhard said, heading for the kitchen door and nudging it open with his hip. “Anyway you like Arjuna, don’t you?” 

“I’m not nearly close enough with him for this sort of conversation!” 

“Nonsense! It’s the job of elders to help their juniors!” 

“I’m not asking your coworker about biting people! Aldhard!” Sheik sounded like he might die of mortification, enough that Aldhard paused. 

He wasn’t sure why it would be a conversation they needed to be close for, unless- “Well- Wait, is this a sex thing?” 

Sheik turned impressively red. 

“... So yes.” Aldhard decided. “Ah, well, we’re covered then.” After all, he’d known Arjuna for a _long_ time. 

“Put me down so I can _drown myself_ in peace.” Sheik grumbled, bringing up both hands to cover his face. 

“But it’s a food thing.” Aldhard marveled. Was it like whipped cream and chocolate? Bodyshots? 

“I don’t make social expectations, Aldhard…” Sheik muttered from behind his hand shield. 

Aldhard was still considering bodyshots in the context of Arjuna. Did blood drinking count as bodyshots? Hmmm. He’d have to ask. Probably out of Sheik’s earshot, if he wanted to talk to him again any time soon. Sheik was not above ignoring him. “Well… you’re happy to break expectations any other time.” Aldhard pointed out. “Why not with this?” 

Behind his hands, Sheik grumbled at him. “Because it’s mortifying.” It was like being growled at by a wolf cub. Aldhard knew he was endangering himself poking it. But it was so cute that he couldn’t take the threat seriously. 

He shrugged, trying not to jostle Sheik too much. Sheik glared at him between his fingers and, eh, Aldhard had probably failed. “But you need it. Anyway, it’s not like you actually have to bite someone. Right?” 

“… well, no.” Sheik’s expression indicated considerable relief for that fact. 

Aldhard smiled at him. “It’s just a matter of finding someone clean and willing to bleed in a cup, then!” 

“… eugh.” Sheik wasn’t enthused, but when pressed couldn’t offer a better plan, so off they went. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy International Fanworks day! Have some fic I pulled out of the hoard and hurried to clean up. It ended up turning from a one-shot to a three shot in that process...


End file.
